Tuesday 3rd February
Ebisu Starbucks – 2:55 pm. To 3:30 pm.

No room in Tully’s for me this afternoon, so here I am slumming it in Starbucks. Never been in this one before. I managed to get one of the comfy armchairs. It’s a long narrow shop. People working on laptops. Conversations in Japanese and English. People updating their personal organizers. 1930’s jazz playing.
I guess that cold walk from the Starbucks in Akasaka up the hill to Columbia really does make a difference. Here the latte is hot and foamy, whereas by Columbia they are usually flat and warm. But still not as good as Tully’s. The guy opposite is on his mobile, and clicking his pen in a particularly annoying way. But it’s the two American speaking Japanese looking women to my right that grab my attention. Spoken English in a public place always seems to carry. “Don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing”. Music excepted. Spoken American English cuts through the air like a laser. I’m not catching every word and so I can’t follow their conversation fully…
“Really, really…
Which, yeah, I know what your saying…
It used to be that it would come from the top…
Big management…
In that way, I mean, for me…
Like, you know…
So from now on…
It’s not easy to…
One day is…I think, like…”
Now I’m listening to them more than thinking my own thoughts, like the ticking of a clock when you are trying to sleep. They’re talking about their company and it functions.
The 1930’s big band jazz plays on
“Right now I think in a way…
what do you think would help?
Better communication…
To make it more fun for yourself…”
Next to them two Japanese guys are talking seriously about pro-wrestling, the sports business of it, I think.
The mobile boy opposite has finished with his diary and is now reading. He sits on the left side of a large brown velvet sofa, room for four. The only other person sits on the far right. She is writing in a legal pad. Above their heads large framed photographs on ethnic coffee themes. The two business girls drone on and on in a nasal American English about training and blah, blah, blah…But I still can’t tear my ears away. Mobile boy puts his book down, leans back and buries his face in his black down jacket. Nat King Cole sings a slow song.
My coffee is almost finished. It’s getting hot in here.
“Considering the budget…
How much percentage do we need?
Donna’s OK…”
Starbucks coffee is much milkier than Tully’s, I can still taste the milk.
They must be American; their English is way too natural, too idiomatic, Californian, the tonal stress patterns and accenting.
“You may want to talk to Sara about all this stuff anyway…
He tried, I know he did…
Friendly, it’s not the same…
Also, I think it’s unfair…
I mean, you know, it’s together…
It’s not really fair…”

Time to go.